


a hotter touch, a better fuck

by dickaeopolis (dicaeopolis)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (kunimi is a third-year matsukawa is in college), Aged-Up Character(s), Cunnilingus, Face-Sitting, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slow Sex, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, in that rough order, title is from the panic song, which isn't really thematic beyond just being a Sex Song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 09:12:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8395930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicaeopolis/pseuds/dickaeopolis
Summary: Matsukawa comes home from college during Kunimi's third year.They find ways to entertain themselves.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rarepairenabler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarepairenabler/gifts).



> COLLEGE IS KICKING MY ASS RN BUT [AMBER](http://www.twitter.com/ambyguity_) AND I MANAGED TO ENABLE EACH OTHER INTO THIS, THANKS ALSO TO HER FOR BETAING I LOVE U
> 
>  
> 
> [THERE IS ART ](https://twitter.com/notallbees/status/791717903552933888)

“I don’t  _ get _ it,” Kindaichi says for the hundredth time.

Kunimi raises an eyebrow, vaguely resenting the fact that he has to look up at his friend to do it. Kunimi is more than six feet tall, but Kindaichi still has three inches on him. “Are you saying he’s unattractive?”

“I mean - he’s not bad-looking, but I’m not  _ attracted _ to him.” Kindaichi gulps down another mouthful of soda from his bottle. “Like, the hooded eyes are cool, I guess, but he’s not - why do you look so amused?”

“Well, maybe not everyone likes the caveman type,” Kunimi suggests.

It takes Kindaichi a moment to realize what Kunimi’s talking about. Kunimi allows himself a small smile as the captain chokes and splutters indignantly. “How would you handle that much hairiness?” he continues, just to see Kindaichi squirm. “How would you even handle that much  _ muscle mass? _ Besides, he’s been attached to Oikawa since we were first-years-”

_ “You thought that about Matsukawa with Hanamaki! _ And look at you now!”

“True,” Kunimi muses. He glances up at the street sign they’re approaching. “Well, this is my turn.”

_ “Matsukawa’s _ turn, you mean.”

“Hmm.”

“You’re hopeless,” Kindaichi calls after him as Kunimi turns down the lane towards Matsukawa’s house.

He can’t deny it. Matsukawa  _ is _ hot, in some weird way. He’s all long limbs and slow smiles, bad jokes and thin hands. He’s surprisingly slender, when the last of the sunset stretches its long fingers through the bedroom window and splays them across his narrow chest. He’s grown his hair out since he graduated, too, and it curls dark around his face, pulls into a messy bun at the nape of his neck.

Most of the year, Matsukawa is off at college in Hokkaido - he’s only home on spring break for a week right now. But a week is plenty of time for Kunimi to catch up with his old teammate. There was the Seijoh practice that he came to at the beginning of the week, the day Matsukawa had invited him over to smoke and offered to teach him how to shotgun, the first time Matsukawa had leaned in to exhale smoke into Kunimi’s mouth and Kunimi rocked forward to catch his lips.

Even back in Kunimi’s first year, when Kyoutani and Kindaichi spent all their time in the locker room stammering over Iwaizumi, when Yahaba was hanging off Oikawa’s every word like an anxious hovercraft, Matsukawa was always Kunimi’s  favorite senpai.

Kunimi lets himself in without knocking - he knows Matsukawa doesn’t care. “I’m here,” he calls as he slides off his shoes and pads down the hall barefoot. No need to bother with house slippers.

“Bedroom,” comes Matsukawa’s voice.

He’s sitting at his desk, typing something on his laptop. When Kunimi taps his knuckles against the doorframe, he closes his laptop and swivels his chair around to face him with a small smile. “Hey.”

With no hesitation, Kunimi climbs into his lap and wriggles a little to get into a comfortable position. Matsukawa’s chest rumbles with a chuckle. “You’re like a cat.”

“Mm?” Kunimi’s preoccupied with settling down against Matsukawa’s lanky form. His senpai’s wearing worn-out old jeans and a soft, ratty t-shirt. Kunimi recognizes the sweatshirt draped over the back of the swivel chair, a relic so old it’s nearly worn through in places.

“It’s not very cool.”

“You can’t mock me for anything,” Kunimi informs him. “You ate an entire party-sized bag of Doritos last time we were high together.”

Matsukawa snorts. “True.”

He puts a thumb under Kunimi’s chin.

Matsukawa never rushes, which Kunimi appreciates. Instead, he kisses slow and lazy, tongue sliding between Kunimi’s lips and pressing against his. His teeth close around Kunimi’s lower lip and drag it out between them. When he finally releases Kunimi, with a hooded smile and a swipe of his tongue over his lips, Kunimi leans back into him.

He tastes like weed, and last night’s Doritos.

Kunimi likes him - his slow hands, his long fingers, his eyes smoothing over Kunimi’s neck. He tips his head back so Matsukawa can bite if he wants, but instead there’s Matsukawa’s nose in the crook of his neck and Matsukawa’s lips soft on his skin and Matsukawa’s curls tickling his cheek.

Matsukawa exhales, sending goosebumps down Kunimi’s shoulderblades with his breath. Kunimi doesn’t make a sound, but Matsukawa feels his shiver.

Kunimi feels his smile.

Matsukawa fits between his legs like he was made to be there. Kunimi likes how he’s unhurried. Matsukawa pushes his hair aside, brushing his fingers across Kunimi’s ear in the process, then leans forward to nip it. The pads of his thumbs sneak under the hem of Kunimi’s t-shirt and rub circles into his hipbones.

Kunimi’s breath grows heavier. His ears are his weakness, and it’s deliciously thrilling that Matsukawa knows. Matsukawa’s tongue curls around the shell of his ear, and when Kunimi grinds down against him, he’s close enough to hear Matsukawa’s breath catch.

Under him, Matsukawa shifts a little, and then he’s standing up. He shuffles the few short steps from the chair to the bed, holding up Kunimi’s weight with one arm, popping the button on his jeans with the other. When he sits down, Kunimi puts one hand on his chest and pushes lightly. But before Matsukawa lies back, he catches Kunimi in a kiss that lingers all the way down to the sheets, sucking lightly at his lower lip as they surge up against each other.

Matsukawa, as Kunimi has learned, can’t ever keep his hands to himself when they’re making out - they skim down Kunimi’s back, sneak under his t-shirt, and play along the waistband of his skinny jeans. He breaks the kiss for a moment to drawl, “aren’t these in your way?”, tugging at the denim.

“Maybe you’re just thirsty,” Kunimi muses.

But he does sit up, taking a moment to appreciate the view of Matsukawa sprawled out long and lanky on the sheets under him. And then he wriggles half out of his skinny jeans and pushes one foot against the other calf to tug them all the way off. He kicks the jeans down onto the floor and bends back down over Matsukawa, who’s lazily palming himself through his pants. Matsukawa’s hands flutter away from his crotch and settle on Kunimi’s hips instead.

Kunimi pulls him into a kiss. One hand presses against Matsukawa’s chest. The other finds its way into the small bun at the nape of his neck and slides it out of the hair tie. Matsukawa’s curls tumble out, dangling around his face and spilling dark and thick across the sheets.

Kunimi tugs lightly at Matsukawa’s hair, and Matsukawa chuckles even as he obligingly tips his head back. “Possessive, huh?”

“Am I?” Kunimi murmurs against Matsukawa’s neck.

Before Matsukawa can answer, Kunimi’s sucking marks into his skin, leaving a line of love bites down past his Adam’s apple. Matsukawa’s smirk melts into a shaky smile, and then he’s gasping, arching up under Kunimi’s teeth. Kunimi’s hand splays out over Matsukawa’s chest, feeling his heartbeat speed up underneath his palm.

Kunimi’s teeth pause just above Matsukawa’s collarbone, and then bite down, slow and deliberate. Matsukawa is startled into a low moan, and Kunimi smiles against the crook of his neck.

Then Matsukawa’s hands smooth down his back, and take a grip on his ass through his boxers, and squeeze.

Kunimi’s hips jerk forward in response, grinding hard against Matsukawa’s hard-on. He doesn’t have time to recover before Matsukawa’s long fingers are sneaking up between them and pressing against the hollows at the tops of his inner thighs, then playing skilfully over his outer lips through the thin fabric of his boxers.

“I kinda wanna eat you,” Matsukawa murmurs. His voice drags deep down Kunimi’s spine, and his fingers brush light and even up Kunimi’s slit.

“Is that okay?” he adds, a note of concern coloring his voice. Matsukawa had always known Kunimi was trans, but since they’d started doing this, he’s been a little more careful, a little more hesitant.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Without warning, Matsukawa swiftly pulls Kunimi up to straddle his chest. His gaze flicks up to meet Kunimi’s, smirk crawling across his face like a slime mold. “Then spread ‘em.”

Kunimi makes a face at the cheesy line. “Why are you like this.”

But he also shifts up, tucking his feet under Matsukawa’s shoulders and lowering himself down over his face. Matsukawa inhales deeply, eyelids fluttering, and then exhales right against the damp spot in Kunimi’s boxers.

“If you want to breathe on me all night, let me get a book or something first,” Kunimi deadpans.

Matsukawa, maturely, sticks out his tongue in response.

It has a nice side effect, though.

His boxers are wet enough that the friction’s delicious as Matsukawa mouths at him through the fabric, and then sucks at his clit. After a moment, Matsukawa pushes him gently away, licking his dry lips and thumbing at the band of Kunimi’s boxers. “Let’s get rid of these, yeah?”

Matsukawa pulls the boxers down and away from his hipbones, and both of them fumble around for a moment to get them off Kunimi’s (admittedly long) legs. And then Matsukawa’s pulling Kunimi back down over his face, kissing sloppy at Kunimi’s lips and then settling in to eat him out in earnest.

Matsukawa’s good at this, as Kunimi had learned quickly. His tongue drags up and down Kunimi’s slit, slips between his folds, prods at his clit. Kunimi relaxes down against him, allowing heat to swell up between his legs, whipped on by Matsukawa’s lips wrapping around his clit and sucking. As Matsukawa’s tongue teases at his clit, Kunimi leans forward and grasps the headboard, hips twitching back and forth under Matsukawa’s ministrations.

Matsukawa shifts around under him, and his hands sneak up under Kunimi. Two fingertips dip into the wetness at Kunimi’s entrance, and then sink into him.

Matsukawa fingerfucks him shallowly, enough to tease, not enough to satisfy him. His lips suck Kunimi’s clit in a slow rhythm, sending jolts of arousal through him at each pull and release.

“Get on with it,” Kunimi mutters. The trip in his voice betrays his agitation, and he feels Matsukawa smile against his lips as he buries his fingers to the knuckles. He crooks them, and Kunimi’s grip on the headboard collapses before he can catch himself.

_ Shit- _

Matsukawa’s fingers curl and knead inside him, massaging Kunimi’s sweet spot until his breathing is rapid and audible. His tongue laps idly at Kunimi’s clit, but Kunimi is rapidly moving towards frantic, and he knows what he wants by now. He rolls his hips down against Matsukawa’s face, a silent command to  _ hurry up. _

“Mm, not yet,” Matsukawa tells Kunimi’s clit. His voice is a little fuzzy, with a hint of strain. “I like you like this-”

“Matsukawa,” Kunimi cuts him off. “I want you to fuck me.”

Matsukawa freezes. His hands stutter against Kunimi’s hips.

When he speaks again, it’s through a swallow. “Yeah. Yeah, we can do that.”

Kunimi allows a small smile to ripple across his lips.

He climbs off Matsukawa’s face, glancing down with mild interest at his own wetness glistening on Matsukawa’s lips and at the bulge straining uncomfortably against his jeans. Matsukawa, meanwhile, shimmies out of his jeans and shucks off his t-shirt, tossing both onto the floor. Kunimi raises an eyebrow. “Commando?”

Matsukawa, who is reaching into the drawer of his bedside table, pauses and glances up at him with a grin. “Always.”

He finds the condom and slides it on with the ease of practice. Kunimi glances around the bed, given a moment’s pause.

“Here,” says Matsukawa. “Like this.”

He lies down on his side, pats the sheets in front of his body. Once Kunimi joins him, Matsukawa pulls him back flush against his chest. It’s warm and comfortable, and Kunimi certainly wouldn’t mind dozing off like this, but he doesn’t see how it’s going to work for sex.

“You good?” Matsukawa murmurs, surprisingly close to Kunimi’s ear. Goosebumps spring up down Kunimi’s side at the breath against his skin.

“Yeah,” he answers.

Matsukawa’s hand snakes underneath Kunimi’s thigh and lifts his leg up, spreading him wide open. And then he’s pressing up against Kunimi’s entrance, carefully guiding himself in.

Against Kunimi’s neck, he lets out a soft, low groan as he pulls out, sinks back in again, and begins to settle into a rhythm. Kunimi’s still spread wide, with Matsukawa’s grip holding him spread wide. And Matsukawa is moving slowly, but steadily, burying himself to the curls at his base with every hard thrust in, leaving Kunimi squirming as he draws out. He’s still groaning, sighing, making soft noises of contentment and pleasure as he fucks into Kunimi.

“Hey,” Matsukawa murmurs. “I can’t be the  _ only _ noisy one.”

“It’s never stopped you anywhere else,” Kunimi deadpans before he can hold back the snark. Matsukawa’s chest shakes with laughter behind him - but then his tip presses right against Kunimi’s sweet spot, and Kunimi  _ squeaks. _

Matsukawa, being the chucklefuck that he is, just laughs at him more. He doesn’t speed up, though. Kunimi’s badly stifling his noises at this point - Matsukawa’s pace is unhurried, but he’s hitting that one hot spot inside him with every deliberate thrust. His free hand sneaks under Kunimi’s body and up, and his fingers play over the smooth expanse of skin between Kunimi’s hipbones. Then they settle between his legs, and rest still for a moment as Matsukawa fucks him slow and lazy and simmering hot.

When Matsukawa’s index finger presses down suddenly against his clit, Kunimi lets out a startled moan.

Against his right ear, Matsukawa laughs softly. Then his tongue drags up the shell of Kunimi’s ear, and his fingers are rubbing quick and skilful at Kunimi’s clit, and his other hand is holding Kunimi firmly wide open, and he’s thrusting harder and faster and deeper against Kunimi’s sweet spot and it’s all too much to take. Kunimi’s too turned on  _ not _ to melt back into Matsukawa’s chest, arousal blooming hot through his veins and radiating out into his limbs.

_ “Oh-” _

Kunimi only lets the softest noise slip as he comes. But Matsukawa can feel him shaking against his chest, can feel Kunimi’s walls pulsing around him.

Matsukawa fucks him through it, but his motion is growing more erratic as Kunimi shudders through the last of his orgasm. Kunimi’s already softening into his afterglow when he feels Matsukawa tense behind him, still, and then groan softly.

They lie curved around each other, heartbeats slowing, for a few moments.

Finally, Matsukawa heaves a deep, contented sigh and carefully pulls out. He slings an arm around Kunimi’s waist and kisses the nape of his neck, his spine between his angel bones, the jut of his collarbone. After a minute or so, Kunimi twists around to face him. He lifts his hand to Matsukawa’s face, tracing feather-light touches over his high cheekbones, his long eyelashes, his thin lips.

“I should go take a piss,” Kunimi murmurs finally, dropping his hand, and Matsukawa nods.

“Bathroom’s down the hall.”

When Kunimi returns to the bedroom, he pauses in the doorway, looking at Matsukawa, who’s focused on tying off the condom. Matsukawa’s  tongue is poking out of the corner of his mouth, and his dark hair is hanging in disheveled waves.

“Do you have time to stay?” Matsukawa says. He finishes his knot and tosses the rubber into the trash can next to his bed, and looks up at Kunimi. “I’m free all evening. Vacation, you know.”

“And do what?” Kunimi asks.

“We can cuddle,” Matsukawa offers. He leans back against his pillows, pats the sheets next to him. “And then get high and watch Cool Runnings.”

“I knew there was a reason you were my favorite senpai,” Kunimi mumbles, crossing the room and crawling onto the sheets next to him.

Matsukawa snorts and nuzzles the top of Kunimi’s head as they settle in.


End file.
